


Always Gold

by theworldunseen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Sansa Stark, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Lesbian Margaery Tyrell, No Incest, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn, for Brienne and Jaime obviously, hope you like romcom cliches tbh!!, this is going to be so fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 19:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldunseen/pseuds/theworldunseen
Summary: Brienne Tarth and Sansa Stark are best friends who've hit the a major rut. On their birthday, they pledge to put themselves out there and get unstuck.But that doesn't mean they expected Jaime Lannister and Margaery Tyrell to waltz into their lives (and hearts) (and beds).





	Always Gold

**Author's Note:**

> alright so this is going to be a romcom with two couples. if sansa and brienne act too OOC for you, it's because i'm pouring myself into both of them, so definitely blame me.
> 
> the title of this fic was "time to be brave" for one day until i realized it was literally reading a wip in progress with the same name. so now it's always gold, which is a radical face song. ok please enjoy!

It started like this. Sansa Stark went to the bathroom after recess one September day in sixth grade and found Brienne Tarth hunched over the sink, trying to wash blood off her face.

Silently, Sansa wet paper towels with hot water and handed them to her. Brienne accepted them with a smile that was more like a grimace. 

Sansa was used to girls who got into fights, growing up with her younger sister, Arya. But Brienne wasn’t like Arya. Arya was always  _ looking _ for a fight. She was like a little wolverine — that’s what their brother Robb and cousin Jon always compared her to, at least.

But Brienne looked like she wanted to blend into the ceramic tile behind her. Though she was big — much bigger than the boys in her seventh grade class, or even the eighth grade — and could definitely take anyone in a fight, she looked like she never wanted to have to use her bruised fists again.

They worked in silence, cleaning Brienne up, some sort of understanding forming between them, though neither girl would dare put a word on it, afraid to shatter it under the weight.

“My shirt,” Brienne said when they were almost done, looking down at her light blue, uniform button down, which has been sprayed with blood.

“Blood isn’t so hard to get out. I bet your mom can do,” Sansa said. Again, it was nothing she wasn’t used to wirth Arya. But Brienne’s blue eyes filled with tears.

“She can’t. My mom’s...dead,” she whispered. Sansa let out a tiny gasp. It was so sad to think about outside of the pages of books — a dead mom — that she almost started crying too, but she knew that wasn’t what her new friend needed.

“My mom could do it,” she said instead. “My little sister is always getting blood on her clothes. You could come over after school.”

Brienne’s eyes somehow grew even wider and glassier at that. It reminded Sansa of her baby brother Rickon’s favorite book, about a friendly cow and his barnyard friends. Well, he was in first grade now and didn’t want to be called “the baby” anymore, but he  _ was _ the baby. And Brienne probably didn’t want to be compared to a cow, even a nice cow like the one on the cover. 

“Really?” Brienne asked, stunned. “Your mom won’t mind a guest?”

“No way,” Sansa said with a little laugh. “She’ll barely notice. I have three brothers and one sister, plus my cousin Jon is always around, and most days Rob’s annoying friend Theon, and sometimes Dacey from next door comes over, you’ll like her—“

“OK,” Brienne said. “I mean, I’ll have to call my dad after school and make sure it’s OK.” She didn’t actually have a rule about that sort of thing with him, since she’d never actually been invited anywhere after school before. But it seemed like something one of the kids on the shows she liked to watch when she was all alone at home would’ve said, so she said it.

Sansa nodded.

“We should probably go to class.”

“I’m Brienne by the way,” she said as they threw out the paper towels. “Brienne Tarth.”

“Sansa Stark,” she said, squeezing her friend’s arm as they exited.

Brienne’s dad of course gave permission.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark,” she said when Sansa introduced her to her mother, hand held out for a handshake the way her dad had taught her. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” Sansa’s mom looked just like her new friend — red hair and blue eyes and an aura of kindness.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Brienne. Sansa said you might need some help with your shirt?”

Sansa, already a master of social graces, had secretly called her mom to tell her all the pertinent details — that Brienne had gotten into a fight and she definitely hadn’t started it because she was so sweet and nice and she didn’t have a mom and could her mom please help her clean her shirt but not be embarrassing about it?

While Mrs. Stark soaked Brienne’s shirt, Sansa helped Brienne change into a pair of Robb’s shorts and one of his shirts (Sansa’s clothes were too small). Sansa’s mom brought them snacks while they laid on the floor of the room Sansa shared with her sister, who was in fifth grade, and did their homework. Sansa struggled a little bit with ratios, but Brienne was a year above her so she was a very good helper.

After they ate all the popcorn Mrs. Stark had made them and finished their practice problems, they laid on Sansa’s bed and Brienne finally told her about the fight.

She’d been in the schoolyard at recess, watching some of the boys play slapball and trying to get enough nerve to ask if she could join. She didn’t really think they would say yes, but she also knew they’d never even have the chance to reject her if she didn’t take the risk.

But fate intervened because, when she wasn’t looking, the ball came flying her way. She grabbed it and jogged over the boys.

“Can I play?” she asked. 

The boys started making fun of her. She didn’t tell Sansa the specifics, but Sansa reached for her hand when he voice got a little choked up.

Brienne hadn’t taken their taunts lightly, though, which made one of them – Red Connington — so mad that he punched her in the face. She got him right back, but then it was three against one and she held her own until a teacher finally intervened. For once, she wasn’t that upset about being  _ a girl _ , because the boys were sent to the principal’s office while she was sent to the bathroom. 

“It’ll just be worse tomorrow, though,” Brienne said. “They’ll really hate me since they got in trouble. And I can’t win with three against one.”

“But it’s not three against one anymore,” Sansa said. “You have me. … Actually, come on.”

And Sansa dragged Brienne outside to meet Robb and Jon and Dacey who lived next door and even annoying Theon, who were all eighth graders. They kicked a soccer ball around with them and the older kids declared Brienne “very cool.”

Then Arya had joined them and she thought it was  _ amazing  _ that Brienne had beat up  _ three boys _ when the best Arya had ever done was get Jon in a choke hold one time, and she was pretty sure he was just letting her win (he wasn’t, actually).

Sansa walked Brienne to the door when her dad finally came to pick her up.

“I’m glad my whole family likes you, but don’t forget — you’re  _ my _ best friend,” Sansa said. Brienne stopped in her tracks. 

“Your best friend?” Sansa frowned.

“Don’t you want to be best friends?” she said, a little wounded.

“No, I, I — yes,” Brienne said, hoping she didn’t ruin it with her sputtering. Sansa grinned. “But I’ve never had a best friend before. I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy,” Sansa said, looping Brienne’s arm through hers. “We have to hang out every day — we could come over here and do homework, or we could go to your house?”

“We don’t have a house,” Brienne said. “We have an apartment. And it’s not all big and full like yours.”

“Good,” Sansa said with a nod. “Sometimes it’s way too crowded here, so we’ll need quiet to do important things. And then on my birthday, you have to get me a really good present. And I’ll get you something really good for yours.”

“When’s your birthday?” Brienne asked.

“May 4.”

Brienne stopped walking again. “Really?” Sansa nodded. “That’s my birthday, too.”

Sansa squealed and hugged her. 

“I knew we were meant to be best friends.” And Brienne couldn’t find a way to disagree. 

_ May 3, 2019, 10:50 p.m. _

It was a tradition they started in high school — they had a sleepover on May 3 and stayed up until midnight to make sure they were the first people to wish each other a happy birthday. Technically it wasn’t a sleepover anymore, since they lived together. And they were both feeling a little less than festive this year.

Sansa had just broken up with her boyfriend, Ramsey. This was a  _ good thing _ because he has been  _ terrible _ , but that only made Sansa feel more bummed about feeling bummed because she knew she shouldn’t be sad at all, but she was anyway. Or maybe she just felt wistful.

Brienne, meanwhile, just felt stuck. She was one hour and ten minutes away from her 27th birthday and she was in a major rut.

“I just feel like,” she tried to explain to Sansa as they sipped their margaritas, “I should have figured out my like... _ calling _ at this point.” Sansa nodded. 

“At least you like your job, though,” her friend said. Sansa was an admin in her mom’s law office. It paid well, but she was so bored, and all the big time lawyers treated her like crap.

Brienne bit her lip — it was true. Brienne worked at Storm’s End, a gym — well a “boutique fitness center” — a few blocks from her apartment. She was a physical trainer and taught spin classes and was trying to convince her boss to let her do self defense, too. 

“But I can’t be a 35-year-old physical trainer,” Brienne said. 

“Why not?” If you like it,” her friend replied. “I was reading this book,  _ Attachments _ , I’ll lend it to you, it’s super romantic. Great kissing scenes. Anyway, the guy in it, he’s kind of figuring out how to unstuck his life, and his sister tells him that he doesn’t have to fix it all at once, he just had to keep adding to his pile of good things. So maybe that’s what we should do. Keep adding to our piles of good things. In fact!”

She got up and went to the supply closet, where she pulled out one of the items Brienne dreaded the most — her arts and crafts box.

“Why don’t we make lists?! We can make one list of our piles of good things and then another list of our goals for this year, and hopefully by next year we’ll just have one list! Or one longer list and one shorter list. Or two longer lists because we’re so inspired!”

Brienne wanted to argue, but she knew better by now than to get in the way of Sansa’s plans. And this was by far the most excited that Sansa had been about anything since her breakup and Brienne didn’t have the heart to crush the spark now.

By 11:50 p.m. they each had two lists. Sansa’s pile of good things included Brienne and her family and her new friend at work, Loras, and the apartment, which she and Brienne had moved into just after the new year and where they didn’t have any more terrible roommates.

The list of things Sansa wanted was...more complicated. Because there was one thing that, if she wrote it down, she would be doing the thing she was writing down the second Brienne saw it…

She looked over at her best friend, who was hunched over her two pieces of paper, trying to apply glitter to them, at Sansa’s suggestion. Brienne hated glitter, and crafts, and coloring. Sansa had to help with all her arts and crafts projects in middle school. So she knew how hard her friend was trying for her, and it made her feel all warm inside.

Brienne was her  _ best friend. _ If she couldn’t tell Brienne, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“Brie?” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She looked up at Sansa. She’d gotten red glitter on one of her eyebrows. “I have to tell you something.”

Brienne nodded. If she suspected something was wrong — and she probably did, she was really observant — she didn’t say anything.

“I think — no. I’m…” She should’ve practiced this, she shouldn’t be doing it on a whim. Too late now. “I’m bisexual.”

Brienne’s eyes grew wide. That obviously wasn’t what she’d been expecting to hear. She scooted over to Sansa’s end of the table and wrapped her in a hug.

“Sansa,” she said. “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” Sansa choked out. She realized she was tearing up, right on the edge of crying.

“Of course,” Brienne said. “I’m so proud of you.”

“You’re the first person I told,” Sansa said, and Brienne hugged her harder. “It’s like...I always sort of...suspected? Or not suspected, I just…”

She took herself out of Brienne’s arms — she needed another sip of margarita.

“Sometimes I used to think about kissing Dacey..like a lot,” she confessed, after she’d put her glass back down. “But I thought all girls thought about girls that way. Girls are hot!” Brienne giggled. “And I knew I liked boys, so I figured that was it and I was straight and everyone’s a little bit bisexual. Except it was always there in the back of my mind, and then I started reading about it and…”

Her phone started vibrating on the table. Arya was texting her.

“Oh no! It’s 12:10! Happy Birthday!”

She crushed Brienne with a hug this time.

“Happy Birthday, Sansa,” she said.

“Because of the lists!” Sansa said, looking over to glance at Brienne’s. She knew she’d be in Brienne’s pile of good things, but it still felt nice to see her name there. 

Her list of goals were more surprising. Find my passion, try yoga, sure, Sansa expected those. But then: Put myself out there more. Fall in love (with a question mark).

“That’s what we’re going to do this year,” Sansa said, pointing at the list. “Put ourselves out there. We are the masters of our own destiny — the mistresses. And then we’ll have a really great year.”


End file.
